


Cravings

by Destina



Series: Temptations [6]
Category: Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace
Genre: Early Work, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-06-02
Updated: 1999-06-02
Packaged: 2018-04-29 12:49:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5128223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Destina/pseuds/Destina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Snack time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cravings

**Author's Note:**

> Written in June 1999; posted to AO3 in November 2015.

"I know this one..." Obi-Wan suckled his lower lip, frowning slightly as he tried to place the tangy flavor.

"Taste again," his Master urged, leaning forward and capturing Obi-Wan's mouth with his own.

Obi-Wan's tongue curled around Qui-Gon's, seeking heat and flavor, until his Master released him. With a triumphant grin, his apprentice opened his eyes and proclaimed, "Cerean spiced wine!"

"Yes," Qui-Gon acknowledged, his eyes darkening with desire as he watched the self-satisfied expression which lighted Obi-Wan's face. Nothing, absolutely nothing about his young Padawan was more alluring than his self-assured confidence and his mischievous spirit, and Qui-Gon had devised this little game to take advantage of those very traits.

Obi-Wan looked at his Master expectantly. "Well?"

Qui-Gon's eyes found and held Obi-Wan's as he unfastened his tunic and tossed it aside. He noted how Obi-Wan's breathing came faster, how his eyes dropped to the athletic, handsome torso which was bared by that simple action. The naked lust in Obi-Wan's eyes took Qui-Gon's breath away.

"My turn," Obi-Wan said smugly, his eyes sparkling.

Qui-Gon obediently closed his eyes and leaned back while his apprentice rummaged through their meager supplies. He heard a jar opening, and pictured Obi-Wan's fingers dipping delicately into the substance within. Such skilled fingers...he felt himself hardening, too soon, and tried to banish the image.

"Taste me, Master," Obi-Wan said huskily.

Qui-Gon moved without opening his eyes, and allowed his apprentice to guide him gently to his waiting, eager mouth. He sensed the heat of that opening and plunged into it, sweeping it with his tongue, feeling Obi-Wan's answering pressure. Within moments he knew the taste, but he could not, would not withdraw, biting Obi-Wan's lower lip with restrained savagery.

"Wild eserberries," he mumbled, eyes half open, still reluctant to separate his lips from Obi-Wan's.

"Yes," Obi-Wan murmured, shoving his Master away slightly and laying back, throwing open his arms with deliberate abandon.

Qui-Gon's hands deftly unfastened his Padawan's tunic and yanked it open impatiently. Obi-Wan merely gazed at him, green-blue pools of passion fixed in that beautiful, familiar face. Qui-Gon wrenched the shirt off his apprentice, leaving no doubt about his state of mind, and ran his hands down the exposed skin, his breath quickening as Obi-Wan's eyes rolled back into his head and his eyelids closed over them.

"My turn," Qui-Gon growled. Obi-Wan nodded, writhing in place. Qui-Gon reached for the treat he had hidden under his pillow, and slipped it between his lips, allowing the warmth there to melt it.

This time, no words were needed. Their connection was pulsing with power, the Force flowing through them, magnifying their want, their most complicated obsession, the wishes of their souls. Obi-Wan reached for his Master and found him near, and they locked together effortlessly, softness to hardness, seeking and finding, crystal beauty and midnight darkness, until Qui-Gon pulled away, his breath ragged.

"Well, Padawan?" The voice was throaty, thick with unsatisfied craving.

Obi-Wan felt a convulsive urge to straddle his Master and give him what he required, but contained his desire and answered, "Iktotchian chocolate!" He licked the residue from his own lips and opened his eyes. Qui-Gon's gaze was locked on him, transparently lustful. His Master settled his hands on his tightly muscled stomach and waited, not at all patiently. Obi-Wan's fingers trembled as he drew Qui-Gon's leggings from his body, exposing his Master's most obvious show of hunger for his  
Padawan.

"My turn," Obi-Wan panted, barely able to breathe. He thrust Qui-Gon back against the pillows and grabbed for the special ingredient he'd left by the bedside.

Qui-Gon's nerves, stimulated to their limits, threatened to throw him into ecstasy as he felt his Padawan's hand on his cock, covering him with sticky goo. He emitted a low cry as the hand was followed by a mouth, swallowing him whole, consuming him. Obi-Wan devoured him deeply, lips and tongue scouring his flesh, faster, then slower, then with an unbreakable rhythm, locked onto him. Qui-Gon neared the breaking point and could not hold back, and as he submitted to his Padawan's will, he felt his entire being drawn through one small speck of light, expanding, his raw nerves fusing together indelibly.

Obi-Wan lifted his head and ascended his Master's spent body, his hands everywhere, delighting in the small noises of painful pleasure he induced. His lips touched Qui-Gon's, relishing the essence of his Master, mingled with the flavor of...

"Thisspiasian honey," Qui-Gon said softly, his arms closing around his Padawan.

"Yes," Obi-Wan confirmed, chuckling. "Your turn."


End file.
